


Definitely Not Friends

by Ely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunkenness, HP: EWE, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely/pseuds/Ely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry spontaneously decides to arrange a meeting with an old rival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not Friends

Harry had never really thought about how straight, teenage boys don’t usually find other boys attractive.

The first person he’d found attractive had been Draco Malfoy. As much as he hated the git, there was no denying it. Draco Malfoy was hot. More than hot, even. He was flawless. In appearance, of course. That didn’t change the fact Harry couldn’t stand him. From his annoyingly perfect blond hair to his almost luminous pale skin to his perfect body. Harry could never get enough of staring at Draco Malfoy, who he now realised had been his first crush.

The next person, regretfully, was a young Tom Riddle, obviously before he had been told who he really was. Despite what a monster he had turned into, Harry couldn’t deny that the memory of Tom Riddle from the diary was unbelievably attractive. It saddened him that he had grown into such an ugly adult, but splitting one’s soul into seven different pieces would probably take a toll on one’s body, he supposed. He knew it was bad to think of things like this so lightly, but it was the only way Harry would be able to deal with it.

Thirdly, there had been Bill Weasley. At first, he had thought it was just admiration for his friend’s brother, but now he knew it wasn’t. Harry did not just want to _be_ Bill. He wanted to be _with_ Bill. His long hair tied back into a ponytail and fang earring had intrigued Harry, and even with the scars Bill now had from Fenrir Greyback, he still _would_. There was no denying it. Bill was hot.

Then there had been Cedric Diggory. Harry had thought that his jealousy had been due to his crush on Cho, but then he remembered how his stomach had flipped and been filled with butterflies whenever Cedric had spoken to him, especially that time he had told Harry to have a bath in the Prefect’s bathroom. Harry had been disappointed Cedric hadn’t offered to join him. He had cared about Cedric more than he had wanted to admit, and only now, almost seven years later, was he able to even come close to coming to terms with the crush without feeling the unbearable guilt and grief.

The fifth boy he had found attractive, strangely, was a young Sirius Black. When Harry had seen Snape’s worst memory in the Pensieve when Snape had been trying and failing to teach him Occlumency, Harry had been whirled into a memory of his dad and his three best friends. He remembered seeing Sirius, who had been around the age Harry was at the time of watching the memory, and appreciating just how attractive his godfather was. Clearly, Sirius had known how attractive he was, and that strangely made Harry all the more intrigued.

Of course, there were many other fleeting crushes Harry had experienced between those five, but none as intense as Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had been there right from the start. He had been the first fellow Hogwarts student Harry had ever met, and despite his rudeness, Harry had always felt drawn to him. He had always wanted to argue with him, or expose whatever scheme he was planning. And it was only now that Harry realised it _wasn’t_ that he hated Draco Malfoy. On the contrary, actually, he was rather obsessed with him. But, of course, he still couldn’t stand him.

He hadn’t seen Malfoy in two years, but the longest Harry had gone without thinking about him was little over two or three days. It was worrying, which is why Harry had finally decided to send him an owl.

He had no idea what he would say to Malfoy once he arrived. All he knew was that he needed to see him.

Sipping at his Firewhisky, he wondered whether Malfoy would show up at the Hog’s Head at all. After all, he hadn’t responded to Harry’s owl, meaning he probably wasn’t interested in the slightest, but Harry needed to try. He wasn’t due to arrive for another five minutes anyway.

Harry probably should have discussed this with Ron and Hermione. Or anyone. Malfoy could quite easily hex him into oblivion the moment he laid eyes on Harry, and no one would know where to find him if he went missing. There was no one else in the pub other than the bartender, so there would be no witnesses. Harry just hoped Malfoy wasn’t like that anymore. It would make him feel less guilty for crushing on him.

The door to the pub swung open, and Harry looked up from his drink to see Malfoy sweep through the door elegantly. Harry took a sharp intake of breath. It had only been two years, but Malfoy looked completely different, yet also exactly the same. His hair was still that infuriatingly perfect shade of blond that reflected the sunlight so well. His eyes were still the same captivating grey colour they had always been. But his bone structure was more pronounced. His previously pointed features had become broader, and his jawline was sharper. It also looked as though he had grown a few inches, and his body was still just as lean and elegant as Harry remembered.

Harry felt scruffy as Malfoy’s gaze fell on him, and he slowly began walking towards the table. He still had not figured out how to tame his impossible black hair, and he had yet to replace his childish rounded glasses with something slightly more sophisticated and adult. He hadn’t grown in height at all since Hogwarts, which angered him to no end because he was rather short for a man. While Malfoy was dressed in a long, dark green robe with straight legged black trousers and pointed shoes, Harry had opted for Muggle wear with a simple black robe haphazardly thrown over the top. He immediately regretted his last minute and comparatively scruffy clothing choice as Malfoy scanned him with his calculating eyes.

“Potter,” spat Malfoy, and it was as though they’d never left Hogwarts.

“Malfoy,” countered Harry, trying not to smile at the familiarity of the whole thing. Malfoy lifted the chair rather than scraping across the floor as Harry usually did, pulling it out from the table so he could sit. He rested his hands on the table and his eyes bore into Harry.

Thankfully, Harry had a few moments to think of a conversation starter as Malfoy called to the bartender that he would like a Firewhisky. He turned back to Harry expectantly, but Harry still couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I’m assuming there’s a reason you’ve invited me here today, Potter?” said Malfoy smoothly. Although Malfoy was an adult now, Harry could still hear traces of the childish whine he was so used to. It was strangely calming to hear his voice again.

“Not particularly,” shrugged Harry, taking a sip of his Firewhisky to give him confidence and watching as Malfoy’s eyebrow arched quizzically.

“Then why am I here?” he asked, as the bartender placed the Firewhisky on the table. He reached out and grasped it with his hands, taking a large, desperate gulp. Harry absentmindedly wondered why he was so desperate for it.

“I just wanted to catch up,” said Harry, and immediately cringed at the words.

“Catch up?” repeated Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief. “We were never _friends,_ Potter.”

“I know that,” Harry said quickly, glaring at Malfoy. “I’m just curious about what you’ve been doing.”

“You’re still just as obsessed with me as you were in sixth year, then?” smirked Malfoy, taking a sip of his drink.

“I thought you were up to something!” Harry exclaimed defensively.

“Which I was. Well done to you for figuring it out. But I can assure you that I’m not sixteen anymore, Potter, and I can make my own choices,” he said venomously. Harry sighed. He should have known this wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t even sure what he had been hoping to get out of this meeting.

“I know. But this isn’t because I think you’re up to something,” he insisted. “I’m simply curious.”

“Really?” asked Malfoy in a voice that showed he did not believe Harry one bit.

“Really,” confirmed Harry. “Where are you working?”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “This sounds an awful lot like an interrogation. You’re acting suspicious.”

“It’s not. I’m not,” promised Harry, and both men took another sip from their drinks. Harry had finished his now, and he motioned to the bartender that he would like another.

“I work in one of the Apothecary’s in Diagon Alley,” he said blandly.

If Harry had been drinking, he was certain he would have choked on it. “You work in an Apothecary?” he said in disbelief. Why would the arrogant Draco Malfoy of all people lower himself to such a level that he was working in _retail_?

“Yes, well, there isn’t really much available in the job market for former Death Eaters,” Malfoy shot at Harry irritably. “I take what I can get. Unlike the Chosen One, I don’t have job offers thrown at my feet every day.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry,” said Harry, throwing his hands up defensively, almost knocking the bartender as she brought him another drink. Harry visited this place a lot, and he was almost certain her name was Tasnim. “Sorry,” he apologised, grinning awkwardly at her.

“That’s alright, let me know if you need anything,” she said, smiling an easy smile. When Harry turned back to Malfoy, he was watching him amusedly.

“What?” Harry asked defensively.

“If all you wanted was a wingman to help you flirt with the bartender, why not just ask Weasley?” asked Malfoy, his eyebrows raised mockingly.

“What? That’s not what-”

“I must say, I can’t imagine Weasley’s very good with women. Though he _would_ make you look better in comparison, I suppose.” There was a hint of jealousy in Malfoy’s voice that Harry couldn’t quite place.

Harry sighed. This wasn’t going how he intended. “If you want to flirt with her, just go for it.”

Malfoy’s slight smile dropped from his face and he stared at Harry in bewilderment for a few seconds. “You’re being serious,” he stated.

“Uh… yeah?” said Harry questioningly, and Malfoy shook his head slightly, mumbling something Harry couldn’t quite hear, but sounded an awful lot like the word ‘idiot’. “Hey, how am I an idiot?”

“You’re so unobservant.”

“What?”

“I figured you of all people would know.”

“Know what?” Why did Malfoy insist on being so infuriating all the time?

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. What’s your job?”

“I… my what?”

“Your job, Potter. I assume you work? Or do you get others to do it for you and just get paid via book royalties from the countless biographies about you?”

“Of course I work,” mumbled Harry, slightly offended that Malfoy would think him so lazy.

“Well?” asked Malfoy after a few moments. “Where? Merlin, this is like talking to a brick wall.”

“Hogwarts,” said Harry before Malfoy could get in another insult. “I work at Hogwarts.” He took another sip of his Firewhisky. He could feel it starting to go to his head, making him slightly woozy.

“Hogwarts?” repeated Malfoy, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, I did just say it twice.”

“Why do _you_ work at _Hogwarts_?” asked Malfoy incredulously.

“I’m a Professor,” explained Harry. “I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Of course you do,” sneered Malfoy. “But that’s not what I asked. _Why_ in Merlin’s name would you choose to work at Hogwarts?”

Harry shrugged. “I like it there. It’s always felt like a home to me.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very touching, but you’re the _Chosen One._ ”

“Don’t call me that,” murmured Harry against the rim of his glass before taking another sip. Malfoy signalled for another drink for himself.

“Would you rather I called you something else? The Boy Who Lived? The Saviour of the Wizarding World? The Master of Death? Take your pick.”

“Harry’s fine.”

Malfoy snorted slightly, and Harry noticed a strand of his slicked back hair had fallen and was dangling loosely next to his eye. Harry felt the sudden urge to reach out and push it out of his face, but he resisted. Neither of them were drunk enough for that yet.

“You expect me to call you ‘Harry’?” smirked Malfoy, as though the very idea of calling Harry by his first name was absurd.

“Well, you just did,” Harry pointed out, and then he grinned as he added, “Draco.”

“Might I remind you, Potter, that we are _not_ friends.”

“Of course. How could I forget?” Tasnim placed the Firewhisky in front of Malfoy. All of a sudden, Harry held up his glass to Malfoy. “Cheers,” he said.

Malfoy looked at him questioningly before lifting his glass and clinking it against Harry’s. “ _Not_ friends,” he specified again, but Harry saw an unmistakable smile Malfoy was trying to hide.

They sat in silence for a moment, and Harry desperately tried to think of something to talk about. “Ron and Hermione are getting married,” Harry blurted after a few moments. Malfoy looked slightly surprised.

“Is it not a little soon to be getting married?” he asked.

“I thought so too, but my parents got married at twenty as well, so it’s not all that strange I suppose,” said Harry. Malfoy hummed in agreement, taking a large gulp of Firewhisky.

“Pansy’s pregnant,” said Malfoy.

“ _What?!_ ” exclaimed Harry. How on Earth was someone his own age pregnant? He barely felt like an adult at all.

“I know,” agreed Malfoy. “I didn’t expect it at all. I was shocked when she told me.”

“Who’s the father?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Blaise Zabini,” smirked Malfoy. It suddenly struck Harry how odd it was that he was discussing such trivial things with Malfoy. He realised this was probably the longest conversation they’d ever had where they hadn’t tried to rip each other’s throats out, and they were talking about _marriage_ and _babies_ as though they really were old friends catching up over a drink.

“Wow,” said Harry after a moment. “I can’t quite believe that.”

“Neither can I. She’s already showing, it’s only four weeks until her due date,”

“That’s so weird.” Then a thought struck Harry. When he had gone to Ron and Hermione’s for drinks last week, Hermione had drunk tea instead of alcohol, insisting that it was because she had work early the next day. “Oh, God, I hope Hermione’s not pregnant.”

“I, for one, agree with you on that,” said Malfoy. “There are already enough Weasleys in this world.”

“There’s no need to be rude about it,” huffed Harry. “What about _you_?”

“What about me?”

“Are you planning on getting married?” asked Harry, trying to sound casual.

“Are you offering?” Malfoy shot back, and Harry looked up at him in surprise. He was _joking_ with Draco Malfoy. The world truly was full of surprises.

“No. I’m wondering,” he said.

“If you’re asking if I’m seeing anyone, the answer is no,” said Malfoy. “I assume you’re still seeing the Weasley girl?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“Oh?”

Harry shrugged. He did not particularly want to tell Malfoy that the reason for their breakup was due to Harry wanting to figure out his sexuality. “I… needed some space to figure myself out.”

“Ah, yes, being the Chosen One must be so difficult sometimes,” Malfoy said dramatically.

“I told you not to call me that,” protested Harry, taking another swig of Firewhisky. The room was starting to wave before his vision slightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, _Harry_ ,” said Malfoy mockingly.

“Piss off, _Draco_ ,” Harry shot back.

“You’re the one who invited me here, I can leave if you’d like.”

“No!” Harry blurted out desperately before he realised what he was doing. His hand had shot out to grab Malfoy’s which was resting on the table. Malfoy looked at him, raising his eyebrows, and Harry quickly pulled away. “Sorry,”

“If you’re so desperate for me to be here, Potter, perhaps you shouldn’t insult me,” said Malfoy after a moment.

“But that would defeat the point,” Harry said. Malfoy blinked in confusion.

“What?”

“Isn’t our entire relationship based on insulting each other?”

“What makes you think we have _any_ sort of relationship at all?” countered Malfoy. He was beginning to slur his words slightly, and Harry found it strangely endearing in his tipsy state.

“You came here today,” Harry pointed out. Malfoy paused, thinking it through. Harry noticed how he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes a little when he thought. He found that strangely endearing too.

“True,” Malfoy said slowly. “But I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Neither did I, honestly,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders so his drink sloshed around in the glass a little.

“Why _did_ you invite me?” asked Malfoy, and as Harry was about to respond, he held up a hand to stop him. “And _don’t_ tell me it’s because you wanted to ‘catch up’. What are you up to?”

“Now who’s acting suspicious?” slurred Harry, taking another sip of his drink to give himself time to compose himself. “Honestly, I don’t know.” He signalled Tasnim for another drink, as did Malfoy.

“Honestly, Potter, if you came here to chat up the pretty bartender, be my guest, but tell me where _I_ come into all this?” He asked, pushing his empty glass aside.

“I didn’t come here to chat her up,” Harry shot back, sounded more sulky than he had intended.

“Then why _did_ you come here?”

“Why do I have to have some kind of ulterior motive for _everything_?” Harry said a little too loudly throwing his hands up in defense. “Perhaps I _did_ just want to talk to you?”

Tasnim placed two glasses of Firewhisky on the table in front of them. “You two are going to drink this place dry if you don’t slow down.”

“My apologies, I need to be extremely drunk to even look at Potter, let alone talk to him,” said Malfoy, smiling his charming smile as Tasnim as though he hadn’t just insulted Harry. Harry felt his stomach churn in slight anger at the way Malfoy was smiling at the pretty bartender.

“Piss off,” he shot venomously to Malfoy, as Tasnim giggled and walked away. “If _you_ just came here to flirt, go right ahead, but don’t expect me to stay.”

“Honestly, Potter, you’re such an idiot,” said Malfoy, grinning slightly drunkenly.

“ _Why?_ ”

“Did you honestly never notice?”

“Notice _what_? For fuck’s sake, Malfoy, just tell me.”

“I’m not flirting with her,” he said simply.

“And why does that make _me_ an idiot?” asked Harry, his voice getting louder and louder as he got more angry.

“Potter,” Malfoy said simply, looking him dead in the eye. “I’m gay.”

Harry choked on his own saliva.

Once he had recovered he looked up at Malfoy’s face, wondering if he had imagined the words he thought he’d just heard Malfoy saying.

“You’re _what?_ ”

“If it offends you so much, you’re more than welcome to leave,” said Malfoy defensively.

“No! No, I just… _you_? _You’re_ gay?” Harry said incredulously. He couldn’t quite believe it.

“I am indeed.”

“But… you… you’re… you’re _you_!” said Harry flailing his arms as though that explained everything.

“Good observation, Potter,” said Malfoy drily, taking a swig of his Firewhisky.

“ _How?_ ”

Malfoy chuckled, “How? Potter, do you really want me to go into details about how to be gay? Is that why you owled me in the first place?”

“But… your _parents_ ,” Harry couldn’t imagine Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy _ever_ being okay with Draco being gay.

“What of them?”

“Your family are all for traditional values.”

“Well, yes, but quite frankly they’re just relieved all of us managed to survive the war. They don’t care about my sexual orientation.”

“I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“I can’t believe you never noticed.”

“What?”

“Most people seemed to know I was gay before I’d even figured it out myself,” he said casually, running his finger around the rim of his glass.

“How? How in Merlin’s name would they know that?” asked Harry.

“Well, for one, I talked about _you_ an awful lot.”

Harry spluttered unattractively. “ _Me?_ ”

“Yes, you.”

“You had a crush on _me?_ ” he asked, praying that his voice didn’t sound too hopeful.

“For lack of a better word, yes, I suppose I did,” Draco slurred before taking another sip and thinking for a moment. “Although I can’t for the life of me imagine why.”

“Hey, I’m very attractive.”

Draco snorted. “Sure, but I can do better.”

“Better than the Chosen One?”

“I thought you hated that name.”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the point.” Harry could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Draco Malfoy had _fancied_ him. Perhaps this night wouldn’t be such a bust after all. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I had a crush on you too,” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. He clamped his mouth shut and held his glass firmly on the table as Draco scanned his face for signs of a lie. He probably shouldn’t have drunk so much.

“You’re gay?” Draco asked. Wait, when had Harry started thinking of Malfoy as Draco? He couldn’t remember. Everything was blurring together. Harry shook his head.

“No. Well, maybe, I don’t know,” confessed Harry. “That’s why Ginny and I broke up. I wanted to figure myself out.”

“The Bi Who Lived,” said Draco absently.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what people always called you behind your back.”

“Really?”

“Merlin, yes. I can’t believe you’ve never heard it.”

“So everyone knew my sexuality before I did too,” noted Harry. How were other people so observant? Or perhaps Harry was just completely unobservant, considering the fact that apparently _everyone_ had known Draco was gay at Hogwarts.

“Apparently so,” Draco smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re gay. How did you figure it out?”

“Kissing other men usually works,” Draco said, and if Harry didn’t know better he might have thought he was being serious.

“I’m serious,” Harry sighed.

“So am I,” Draco said, his eyes boring into Harry’s. Harry shuddered slightly, and felt a twitch between his legs as he considered the implications of what Draco was saying.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore, he stood up and grabbed hold of Draco’s collar, and after smugly registering the look of surprise on the other man’s face, crashed their lips together.

It took Draco a moment to respond, but when he did his hands found their way into Harry’s messy hair. The kiss, quite frankly, was incredible. Their lips moved drunkenly together, with an intensity that showed how long they had both been waiting for this. Harry eventually grew annoyed at the table between them, and broke the kiss so he could step round and kiss Draco properly. He brought his hands up to the taller boys head and tangled them in his hair, as Draco’s hands gripped Harry’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. Harry could feel his erection pressing into his leg, which in turn made Harry just as hard.

“Get a room,” he heard Tasnim yell from somewhere that sounded far away. The two men pulled apart, and Draco stumbled back, adjusting his robes to hide his arousal. Harry grinned at Draco’s usually perfect hair being messed up.

“Yes please,” Harry said to Tasnim.

“What?” shot Draco.

“We would like a room,” said Harry, grabbing hold of Draco’s wrist and dragging him over to Tasnim. Tasnim handed Harry the keys to room 14, unable to supress her smile. Harry dragged Draco up the stairs and found the room. He had trouble unlocking the door due to the fact his hands were shaking with excitement and his vision was woozy from the alcohol, but after the fourth try he managed to get the key in the lock and twist it, opening the door. He then reached out for Draco’s wrist again, slamming the door behind them before Draco grabbed hold of him and pressed him up against it, leaving Harry barely enough time to throw the key onto the dressing table.

Harry’s hands found their way to Draco’s hair again, and Draco’s leg pressed between Harry’s against his erection. Harry moaned hotly into the other man’s mouth, and arched his back as Draco pulled away and planted kisses on Harry’s neck. He sucked the skin until Harry was certain there would be a mark, and then he moved on to a different spot on his neck and did the same. Harry moaned with pleasure as Draco’s hand ran down his chest and grasped hold of his dick through his trousers, causing Harry to buck his hips.

Harry wanted to mark Draco as his own, and so he pushed him away, slamming him against the wall before attacking his neck in much the same way Draco had been doing earlier. He fumbled with Draco’s robes before managing to pull them off and throw them to the floor.

“Harry,” Draco moaned, and Harry felt his dick twitch and heard himself moan against Draco’s neck at the sound of him calling Harry by his first name.

Before Harry knew what was happening, Draco had pushed him away and was pulling off Harry’s cloak and t-shirt, pushing him down on the bed. He straddled over him and kissed him full on the mouth again, their teeth knocking drunkenly together as Harry fumbled at the buttons on Draco’s shirt.

The heat was pooling inside him, and Harry had never been so turned on by someone before. Draco’s skin was ghostly white in comparison to his darker complexion, and despite his lean figure he was very well toned and rather muscular. Draco pulled his lips away from Harry’s, and Harry’s sound of protest was quickly replaced with a moan of pleasure as Draco kissed down his jawline to his neck. He continued kissing and nipping at Harry’s skin down his chest, letting his tongue dance over Harry’s nipples, causing his back to arch.

His mouth made his way down Harry until it reached just above the waistband of his trousers, which Draco wasted no time in unbuttoning and pulling off. He threw them to the floor and grasped Harry’s cock through his boxers. Harry moaned embarrassingly loud. It had been a long time since he’d had sex.

Draco slid Harry’s boxers down torturously slowly, and Harry gasped as he felt his dick spring out. He looked down at Draco, who was looking appreciatively – almost hungrily – at Harry’s leaking erection.

“What do you want?” Draco breathed hotly against Harry’s dick, causing Harry to moan in pleasure.

“I… I want… you,” he stammered, arching his hips in the hope that Draco would comply.

“Say please.”

“Please,” breathed Harry desperately. The word was met with Draco’s hot, wet lips slipping over his dick, taking it fully in his mouth. Harry gasped. He had expected Draco to tease him first, but the man had gone for it straight away, sucking and bobbing his head up and down. Harry looked down at Draco, who was staring straight back at him, cheeks hollowed and eyes intense, and Harry had never been more turned on in his life.

He bucked his hips and tangled his hands in Draco’s hair, but Draco didn’t need guiding. He clearly knew what he was doing, and his hands played with Harry’s balls.

Then Harry felt Draco’s finger brushing against his entrance, and his back arched, suddenly longing to feel him inside him. Draco’s finger slid in and Harry moaned with pleasure.

“D-Draco,” he breathed as he started moving his finger in and out before inserting another. Harry gasped, and realised Draco must had used a lubrication charm when Harry hadn’t been paying attention, because his fingers were wet and slick, and his tongue was swirling around his dick, and oh Merlin, Harry wanted Draco inside him _right now_.

“Please,” begged Harry, moaning. “Fuck me.”

Draco’s mouth slid upwards until Harry’s dick was eventually freed.

“With pleasure,” he said, removing his fingers so he could move upwards on the bed. He removed his trousers and boxers in one go, and Harry gasped at the majesty that was Draco’s dick. He was much larger than Harry had expected. Draco cast a lubrication charm on his hand, before slicking it over his dick, and by God, did he look perfect.

He positioned himself at Harry’s entrance, and Harry whimpered as he felt Draco’s dick brush against him.

“What do you want?” growled Draco, leaning forwards to nip at Harry’s earlobe.

“You.”

“To do what?”

“To fuck me, oh God, please fuck me,” Harry pleaded desperately.

“If you insist,” Draco smirked, using his hand to guide his dick.

Harry gasped as he felt himself stretch out as Draco entered him. It felt incredible, and Draco grunted as he slammed into Harry completely. Clearly, Harry wasn’t the only one desperate for this. Harry cried out as Draco began thrusting his hips, and Harry responded by digging his fingernails into Draco’s back and pulling him against him desperately, sucking at his neck again as he moaned. It felt so good to have Draco inside him, sliding and thrusting as their hot, sweaty bodies moved together.

All of a sudden, Draco’s hand grasped hold of Harry’s dick between them and Harry moaned because at the same moment, Draco hit _that spot_ inside him.

“Oh, fuck!” cried Harry. “Like that again.” He was barely making any sense, but Draco understood and he thrust into Harry again at the same angle, hitting that spot again at the same time as his hand pumped Harry’s dick.

Harry could feel it building up inside him, and then his vision exploded into white spots as he climaxed. His toes curled and he gripped hold of Draco’s back as he screamed out Draco’s name, spilling himself over Draco’s hand and his stomach.

Just as he was coming back down from his orgasm, he felt Draco’s thrusts jerking and he grunted before moaning out Harry’s name, and Harry watched in awe as Draco came inside him. His face twisted in pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut, and Harry felt Draco’s arms which were squaring his shoulders shake. Harry hoped the image of Draco Malfoy’s orgasm was burned into his memory forever. Draco pulled out and collapsed on top of Harry, before rolling over to lay beside Harry, panting heavily.

Neither of them spoke for a while, until Harry cast a quick, wandless cleaning charm to clear up the mess he had made over his stomach and Draco’s hand.

“Did you do that without a wand?” murmured Draco.

“Mmhm,” Harry responded.

“Show off.”

“Jerk.”

Both men laughed softly, and after a few moments, Draco flung his arm over Harry’s stomach and they both drifted into a drunken sleep.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke up groggily the next morning with a pounding headache before he noticed a warm body pressed against his back and an arm draped over his body. The events of the previous night came flooding back and Harry couldn’t help but grin.

He rolled over gently under Draco’s arm, hoping not to wake him. No such luck. The other man stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

“Morning,” said Harry, still grinning.

“Eugh,” was all Draco said, scrunching his eyes shut to blink away his sleep. He really was a beautiful man. His hair was mussed and his eyes were unfocused, as he came to terms with being awake. Harry planted a quick kiss on Draco’s nose, which was when he finally opened his eyes properly, blinking in surprise.

“How are you feeling?” asked Harry.

“As though someone’s hitting my brain like a drum,” he groaned. “How are you feeling?”

“My arse hurts.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose before he narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Don’t think this changes anything. We are _not_ friends, Potter.”

“No, of course,” Harry grinned suggestively, watching as Draco sighed in exasperation and buried his head into the pillow. “We are _definitely_ not friends.”


End file.
